Ed put his elbow on the table and placed his forehead in his hand. ‘I just can’t believe my parents… they’ve stooped too low this time… whatever crap they throw at me as a reason for their behaviour, there’s no excuse. Knowing them, they’ll try to pin the blame onto someone else. They’re oblivious to how they look to the rest of the world and, worse, they don’t seem to care. Someone needs to hold a mirror up to them; force them to take a look.’ He fell back into his seat, his shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘I’m so sorry, Florrie.’ The pain in his eyes as he looked at her almost broke her heart.
‘Ed, please listen to me and believe it when I say neither me nor my mum blame you, okay? You really need to take that on board. Look at it this way, if my parents behaved in a manner you didn’t like, would you hold me responsible for it?’
‘No, ’course I wouldn’t.’ He shook his head.
‘Well, then, there you are – it works both ways.’
‘Fair point.’ His shoulders heaved with a sigh, and he raked hisfingers through his hair. ‘I have to speak to them, make sure they understand. What were theythinking, encouraging Luella to come here? It’s next-level madness from them.’
‘They’re clearly desperate to stop us from getting married.’
‘It’s time they realised their ridiculous antics at trying to split us up aren’t going to work.’ He blew out another forceful sigh. ‘Anyroad, that’s enough about them, I just end up going round in circles trying to fathom them out.’ He forced a smile. ‘How’re you feeling?’
‘Still trying to take it all in if I’m honest. Hoping that all the tests come back clear for my dad. Worrying about my mum, and hoping she’s not getting herself too worked up about him.’
‘I get that.’ He reached for her hand, squeezing it tight. ‘I doubt you’ll be feeling hungry, but you’ve got to eat; how about something simple like scrambled eggs on toast or soup?’ Despite their plans, they’d both been too busy to eat before the reading and the quiche was still in the fridge at the bookshop.
He was right, she had no appetite. In fact, she still felt slightly nauseous, but thought it best to have something in her stomach, just in case they had to make a dash to the hospital – not that she wanted to dwell on the reason for that. ‘Actually, not that I’m wanting to upset you, what with it being… well… with Luella being responsible for it, but knowing there’s a window with a load of dried-on egg waiting for us in the morning, I think I’d rather go for soup, if that’s okay with you?’
Ed pulled a face at the reminder. ‘Fair point. That’s more than fine with me. I suppose we should be thankful the weather’s cold at the minute. If it was blazing sunshine, it’d bake the egg to the glass and make it a right nightmare to remove.’
Florrie groaned. ‘What a thought.’
While Ed got on with preparing the soup, Florrie headed upstairs, telling herself she’d wait till after they’d eaten before she tackled the slew of texts and voicemail messages that had landed while they’d been at the hospital. The bulk were from her friends,and she knew they’d be okay with waiting until she was ready to reply.
As soon as she reached the small landing, Florrie was struck by a feeling that things weren’t right. The air felt different, as if it had been disturbed.Not this again.She paused, taking a moment to steady herself. Her eyes went to the door of the spare room and her heart lurched. The door was ajar again, and she knew for a fact it had been left closed that morning; she’d deliberately run upstairs and checked right before they’d left the house. Her thoughts turned over as her pulse raced. Only Ed had been back since then. Logic told her it must be him. Did that mean he hadn’t been telling her the truth when he’d said he hadn’t ventured in there? She nibbled on her fingernail, not liking the feelings that thought gave her. Why would he lie? Was he looking for something else in there, other than rummaging through her wedding stuff? She immediately told herself that was highly unlikely, considering their discussion the other day.
‘Maybe there’s something wrong with the catch?’ she said softly to herself, pulling the door to until it clicked shut. She pushed it, hoping it would simply pop open, but it stood firm. ‘So much for that theory.’
With her stomach twisting, she opened the door and flicked the light switch on. Peering apprehensively into the room, her gaze went straight to the desk, her heart leaping at what she saw. A couple of the drawers were standing open, the pencil pot had been knocked over, and a clutch of papers were strewn across the carpet along with a couple of pens. An icy chill spiked through her. There was no way she was imagining this, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt it couldn’t be Ed, it was so unlike him. He never left drawers hanging open, and that aside, his severe dyslexia meant he gave the desk and its contents a wide berth, which was why they referred to it as hers; he left dealing with any correspondence to her. And he would ask if ever he needed any of their documents, knowing how organised she was with their paperwork, saying he wouldn’t know whereto look. It was the same for her with the shed which she jokingly referred to as his ‘man cave’, and never crossed the threshold unless he invited her to do so. It was where he made the components of the window displays and she respected his desire for privacy, knowing he wouldn’t want to spoil the element of surprise by her catching a glimpse of anything until the windows were finished.
But if it wasn’t Ed, who the heck was it? she wondered. Whoever it was, they were creeping around her home without their permission. And they didn’t appear to be too concerned about covering their tracks. Unless they’d been disturbed and left in haste. The thought sent a chill running up her spine.
As she stood and wrestled with all of this, nibbling away on her nail, a worrying thought bloomed in her mind. When Dawn was in possession of their house key the other day, could she have had a copy made? There was a kiosk near the station that offered such a service, boasting how a new key could be cut ‘while u wait’. It was a big thing, getting a copy of a key made to someone’s house without their knowledge or consent; illegal, no doubt. And it was an equally big thing to accuse somebody of doing it. Would Dawn have been so bold as to do such a thing? Florrie asked herself, a reply coming back in a flash. ‘Of course she flaming well would! I wouldn’t put anything past that woman!’ She doubted Ed’s mother would even bat an eyelid as she stood waiting for it to be done, telling herself it was something she was entitled to do.
Florrie wondered what it was Dawn was looking for, if she truly had felt the need to come back for a further snoop around their home? Much as she was dreading it, she was going to have to broach this with Ed even though she knew it would add to the reasons for him to fall out with his parents. It wasn’t going to be an easy conversation to start, that was for sure, but her worries weren’t for Dawn and Peter Harte, they were for her kind, and mild-mannered fiancé; Ed didn’t deserve this.
Heading to their bedroom, she took a quick glance around, relieved to see that nothing looked out of place, and her collection of crystals on the dressing table were just as she’d left them thatmorning. She couldn’t begin to imagine what would be of interest to Ed’s parents in this room. The attic, however, was a different matter. Along with several bookcases, the compact room, with its view of the sea, also housed a small filing cabinet where they stored their important documents, including the mortgage details of Samphire Cottage, her exam and English Literature degree certificates, and their individual copies of Mr H’s will. It also contained the correspondence and documents relating to the transfer of ownership of the bookshop to them as well as details of Jack and Jean’s investment. And they didn’t keep it locked; they hadn’t felt the need to. Until now.
Heading to the attic, Florrie’s stomach rolled over as she took in the scene before her: the drawers to the filing cabinet stood open, while a handful of files were cast carelessly over the floor. ‘Oh, no!’ she groaned. It told her beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was Dawn who’d been creeping around their home, and maybe Peter, too, with him now being in the town. And the only thing she could think they were looking for was documents relating to the bookshop, no doubt hoping they could find a loophole with which to dispute Ed and Florrie’s ownership.
She headed back down to their bedroom and dropped onto the bed, feeling defeated. She didn’t know how Ed had coped with such difficult bloody-minded people for all these years. They were self-serving, self-absorbed and deluded – or ‘delulu’ as Leah had put it; lightyears away from her own parents. And she wasn’t sure she had the strength to deal with anything else they had to throw at them right now. Her poor dad was in hospital because of stress caused by them, and she couldn’t imagine anything worse. They could look around her home for all they wanted. She didn’t care. All she was bothered about was her dad making a full recovery, and being able to walk her down the aisle, smiling proudly as he delivered her to Ed’s side.
She felt suddenly swamped by emotion as her tears made a bid for freedom. She took off her glasses and sobbed into her hands.
TWENTY-THREE
Florrie was crying so hard, she didn’t notice Ed come into the room. He eased onto the bed beside her, slipping his arm over her shoulder and kissing the side of her head. ‘I’m so sorry you’re feeling sad. I wish I had a magic wand to wave and make everything better.’ He held her close, smoothing her hair until her sobs subsided, then eased back and placed his thumb under her chin, tilting her face to him. ‘You okay now?’ he asked softly.
She shook her head, wiping her eyes with her fingers. ‘Not really. No.’ She felt exhausted, as if she had a lead weight on her shoulders.
‘Has something else happened? Have you heard from your mum? Is your dad all right?’
‘It’s not my dad, and I haven’t heard anything else from my mum, which I guess is good news – at least, I hope it is.’ How could she share her suspicions when he was already wracked with guilt about his parents’ behaviour contributing to the reason her dad was lying in a hospital bed in intensive care?
‘So what’s got you all upset again? Did you feel overwhelmed after everything that’s happened? It’s completely understandable if you did. I feel distressed and worried, and Charlie’s not my dad, so I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like for you; your mum,too. But you could’ve told me you were feeling rubbish, I’d have listened, given you a cuddle. You shouldn’t be crying on your own.’
Tears sprang to her eyes again, the kindness in his words just about undoing her.Bite the bullet, Florrie. You have to tell him.Swallowing hard, she wiped her eyes and steadied herself. ‘I think someone’s been in the house again.’ She couldn’t bring herself to name his mother.
